Burn
by Stand In Girl
Summary: Max and Alec go on an undercover mission for Logan. Things go horribly wrong, however, when Alec sees someone he used to know…. MA.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Burn

**Summary:** Max and Alec go on an undercover mission for Logan. Things go horribly wrong, however, when Alec sees someone he used to know…

**Timeline:** Everything up to The Berrisford Agenda.

**Pairing:** MA.

**A/N:** This story is an alternative take on the Berrisford Agenda. It started as a small plot-bunny, and then grew into an entire story. Oh, and so far I'm Beta-less, so if anyone's interested, let me know! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dark Angel.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"_You see that I can play a pretty convincing role,  
So I don't need you, I don't think I need you."_

_-_Jars of Clay, Sinking

* * *

"I can't _believe_ I let him talk me into this." Max hissed angrily under her breath. She released a long line of expletives as she pulled on her black heels and attempted to straighten the straps on her skimpy black dress. She stamped her foot in annoyance when one strap remained stubbornly twisted behind her back, and her companion chuckled deeply.

"Here," Alec said, sounding amused as he unwound the thin scrap of material. His hand lightly and purposely stroked her skin as he did so, fingers lingering just where her shoulder blade met her back. She grabbed the lapels of his expensive tuxedo and she slammed him up against Logan's car, moving very close to his face.

"Let's get one thing straight, here. You are _pretending_ to be my date. You will only touch me when necessary, and there will be absolutely no caressing, kissing or licking." She released him and growled in annoyance when she realized he still looked amused.

This was the last time she ever let Logan talk her into doing something like this. The plan had originally been for Logan and Max to attend an upper-class party, and for Max to sneak away at some point and snag the documents Logan needed for his latest Eyes Only project. However, it had turned out that the security system was immensely complex, and required a team. Two very skilled, very well-trained cat burglars. Unfortunately, that had led to only one conclusion, and neither Logan nor Max was very happy about the new plan.

Alec, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. "_Licking_? Get your mind out of the gutter, Maxie. I have no intention of licking you _tonight_." He put a delicate stress on the last word, as if to indicate that he would at some point want to lick her—just not on this occasion.

She didn't deign to respond as she began walking up the winding path to the mansion. Any house that needed its own parking garage for guests was really too big. Alec followed along, his pace slow and easy compared to her stiff, angry stride.

She had to admit that he looked wonderful. His tux fit him perfectly, and he didn't look awkward in it as many men did. His hair was combed neatly, curling at the edge of his collar; she grimaced when she caught site of the small lines marring his neck. No matter how many times she told him, he was always caviler about covering his barcode. His green eyes sparkled with mirth and a smile lit his full lips as he caught her stare.

"Surprised I clean up well?" He asked in response to her ongoing scrutiny. He studied her in the delicate black dress, his eyes lingering over the low-cut neckline and the thin straps that revealed her smooth, tan shoulders. Then his gaze glided up to her face, and she could tell he was inspecting her attractive hairstyle and makeup-slathered face. "You don't do too bad yourself. Who knew _that_ was hidden under all the attitude and bulky clothing?"

She punched his arm with enough force to make him wince. "Just this once, could you please restrain from talking?"

"But then I wouldn't get to hear the sound of my own voice."

She snorted, realizing he had beaten her to the punch. Her next comment would have definitely involved his fondness for listening to himself talk. "Just shut up and put your arm around me."

He grinned, and his eyes lit up. "Now we're talking."

She resisted the urge to smack him, and instead allowed him to wrap an arm around her waist. "No, we're here. Let's make this realistic."

They stepped up to the door and handed their invitation to the butler. That small piece of paper had taken Logan almost a week to obtain, though he claimed it was well worth the effort.

"Right this way," The man said politely, ushering them into the house.

It was huge, with a spiraling staircase dominating the room and numerous expensive paintings lining the walls. The entire place had a supremely wealthy air, and seemed to be decorated solely for the purpose of showing off the amount of money its owners had tucked in their pockets. Guests lingered throughout the place, drinking champagne in large groups and others inspecting the expensive decorum.

Alec quietly cased the room, looking for the most valuable artifacts in case he decided to pay a return visit. Max did the same, although she studied her surroundings to make sure Logan's plans went off without a hitch. The two gracefully immersed themselves into the crowd of people at the base of the staircase.

More than a few eyes turned when they passed; Max and Alec were easily one of the most striking couples at the party. Almost immediately people walked up to them and introduced themselves. Max ignored the heated male stares, while Alec relished in the attention from the women.

Max felt a growing sense of annoyance as Alec continued his charming behavior. He was funny, alluring and magnetic, and he fit perfectly into the role of gorgeous poster child for Pre-Pulse wealth. After a particularly obvious wink at a beautiful girl dressed head to toe in designer gear, Max decorously leaned up and placed her lips close to his ear.

She smiled happily to maintain their cover, all the while managing to grind out, "Stop flirting with everyone in sight. You're making yourself too memorable."

"We're already memorable, Maxie." He replied, leaning down and brushing his lips over her temple as he whispered in her ear. "It's better to pull the suspicion off ourselves by making everyone think we're just a normal rich couple."

She tensed at his closeness. He rested one placating hand on her bare shoulder and another on her lower back, so that she was loosely encased in his arms. "Relax. I know what I'm doing."

She nearly growled, infuriated that he was using their cover as an excuse to tease her. Not that his touch felt awkward or appalling–actually, it felt warm and strong and confident–but he knew better than to touch her like this. She'd told him not to, dammit.

"Alec, darling?" She purred, and he raised an eyebrow in question. "If you don't get every part of your anatomy off of me right this second, I'm going to throw you through the front window."

For a moment he seemed to consider the challenge, a spark igniting in his eyes. Then he shrugged and pulled away. His only contact was a gentle arm wrapped around her waist, and Max told herself it was necessary.

"And who might you be, my darlings?"

Max and Alec turned to find a middle-aged couple staring at them with great interest. They were obviously very old money, both garbed in expensive attire and luxurious jewelry. Max quickly offered her hand and spoke before Alec had a chance. "Sara Krane, of the Greenwich Kranes. And this is my—"

"Fiancé, Alexander Holt." Alec interrupted, smiling brilliantly. His gaze lingered on the woman until she blushed.

"I'm Elizabeth Dawson, and this is my husband, Thomas," Betsy replied, patting her slightly drunk husband's chest. Her eyes still rested heavily on Alec.

"Lovely to meet you," Max said politely, feeling a bit annoyed at the woman's ridiculous behavior. It nauseated her that Alec had such an effect on people. He could persuade anyone to do just about anything with a quick smile and a nod of that pretty little head.

Thomas leered at Max through his glass of champagne, and Max did her best to smile back. There was a slight lull in conversation, and Max struggled to think of what to say.

"Do you own your own company, sir?" Alec asked smoothly, nodding courteously to Thomas. The man nodded enthusiastically and waved his hands, a bit of champagne sloshing over the rim of his glass.

"I'm head of the company that creates all the gadgets for the Sector Police," He replied, his words slightly slurred. "Although that's just my own little business. My family has been inventing new technologies for years."

"How interesting," Alec replied, somehow managing to sound sincere. "Perhaps you could tell me—"

"Elizabeth!" A woman suddenly entered the conversation, walking up to their small gaggle and butting in between Elizabeth and Thomas. She glanced at Alec and Max, looking slightly surprised, and then said, "I apologize for interrupting. Would you mind if I borrowed Mrs. Dawson for a moment?"

Max felt interest bubble at the pit of her stomach, but held her tongue and instead said, "Of course."

The two women walked hurriedly away, and Thomas wandered off to find more champagne. Max looked at Alec again, but his gaze was focused over her shoulder. She turned too, and saw that Elizabeth and her friend were now speaking to an older, obviously wealthy man.

Max was about to turn to Alec again when she realized that his grip on her back had become tight and painful. She glanced at him, irritated, but he didn't pay any attention to her glare. In fact, he didn't pay attention to much of anything, and it took her a moment to recognize the expression on his face. With his clenched jaw, pale face and dilated eyes, he looked bewildered and maybe even frightened.

"Alec?" She hissed, forcefully removing his arm from her waist. She noted that his hands were clenched into tight fists. "We need to—"

"I'm leaving," Alec said low in his throat, interrupting her mid-speech. Anger clouded Max's features; he didn't even seem to be playing the part anymore. She looked at the other guests warily, noticing that his angry growl had attracted attention. Alec turned in a flurry of motion and stalked away, causing even more eyes to flicker their way.

Max felt anger boiling in her stomach, but she followed him quietly to maintain some semblance of cover. He had made it halfway to the door when she yanked him into an empty hallway and slammed him against the wall.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" She demanded, her voice losing all of its charm as she stared at him, utterly incensed. "You're going to blow everything—"

"I have to go," He broke in, shoving her away with such force that she fell backward into the opposite wall.

"We can't go!" She replied, confused and furious. "What are you thinking, Alec?! We came here for a reason, and Logan needs the—"

"I don't care!" Alec replied viciously, "Save the whole damn world on your own—I'm getting out of here. _Now_!"

She had never seen such cold fury on his face before. Amusement and arrogance were common expressions, but never anger and never anything this uncontrolled. In that moment, staring into his stormy green eyes, she felt a little afraid of him.

The fear was probably why she didn't stop him when he turned and marched away. Instead she trailed along after him; she couldn't stop him from leaving and she couldn't pull this job on her own. There was no reason to stay.

Once outside, he bypassed the garage and turned toward the eight foot fence bordering the property. Without a glance in her direction, he bounded over it and landed neatly on the other side.

"Where are you going? We came together!" She shouted at his retreating figure, but he continued running as if he hadn't heard.

* * *

_A/N: Reviews are lovely!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews! Glad I've caught your interest. Warning for some coarse language in this next part._

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"_Treading water I keep from sinkin__g,  
[And] I'm not one for reaching."_

- Jars of Clay, Sinking

* * *

"He just _left_!" Max shouted angrily as she paced back and forth in Logan's apartment. "And did he give me a reason? Hell no! He told me to 'save the world' myself, and then took off into the night as if none of it even mattered!"

In her anger, she slammed her hand down onto a nearby table and flipped the entire thing over. A lamp crashed to the floor and shattered, and several papers skittered through the air. Max bit the inside of her cheek and counted to ten, willing herself to calm down. Then she picked up the fallen debris, her hands shaking slightly.

"Sorry," She said shortly, turning to Logan with a regretful expression on her face. The apology was significant, meant to excuse both the broken lamp and the fact that Alec had ruined all of Logan's well-laid plans.

"Don't be," He replied, his eyes also relating a deeper message. Logan was a keen observer that way. She smiled, though it was gone faster than it had appeared. She still couldn't get over her fury.

"I can't believe he ruined everything. He should have at least known how to do this," Max slumped into a chair and breathed through her nose, her limbs itching for something to pound. "He knew what he was doing. He had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. So why did he decide to just give up?"

Logan stared into space for a moment, apparently thinking, and said, "I really couldn't tell you—don't know enough about the guy." He paused again, and then added, "But I do know that we'll have to start over, which means we'll need a new plan. Preferably one that doesn't include Alec."

"I should never have trusted him to come through," Max said, shaking her head. "What was I thinking? I gave him a chance, and he does what he always does. He screws _everything_ up."

"It was my fault for bringing him into this," Logan reminded her. "I could have said no when you offered the idea. Although, I assumed he could handle it. Didn't he say he went on solo missions?"

Max shrugged and continued to pace angrily. "Apparently. I wonder how the hell he managed to keep Manticore from eliminating his ass, the way he messes up."

"Had to be good at it at some point," Logan replied, and there was a dark thread in his tone. Both Max and Logan understood that undercover jobs often required one to eliminate the subject being observed. As usual, however, they both avoided the topic of Manticore and the things the institution made its soldiers do.

Max sighed and sat as close to him as she dared. "What now?"

Logan had already pulled out his cell phone. "Now we need to think of another way to get the bad guy. Oh, and Max?" Logan added as he dialed, and she looked at him questioningly. "That tux was a rental."

* * *

Max unceremoniously banged on Alec's door, just barely restraining herself from adding a bit more force and throwing her first through the thin wood.

After a few more noisy knocks and no reply, Max took to shouting. "Alec, get your lazy ass out here and open the door. Now!" She paused and waited for a response. She heard a slight shuffling sound, followed by a sharp intake of breath and muffled footsteps. "I can hear you in there! Open. The. Door!"

Finally, the lock tumbled and the door swung inward. A scathing reply rested on the edge of Max's tongue, but she stopped short in surprise when she took in his appearance. His usually laughing green eyes were dark and foreboding, his cheekbones stood out hollowly against his pale skin and his hair was severely rumpled, as if he had repeatedly run his hands through it. He looked about as hellish as someone with genetically perfected genes could look.

"What the hell happened to you?" She blurted, her expression morphing into a frown.

His eyes narrowed slightly, the only reaction to her question. He offered no explanation or reply, and she placed her hands on her hips and glared.

"You don't want to talk? Fine. I don't want to be here, anyway." He raised a mocking brow, wordlessly asking her why she was at his apartment if she didn't want to be. "I need the tuxedo you wore yesterday. You know, when you flaked and screwed up the whole job? Logan needs to return it."

"Fine," He said curtly, his voice echoing from deep in his throat. He turned, leaving the door ajar, and disappeared into the back room. She glanced around at his apartment, remembering how it had looked when Brain had lived in it.

Things were drastically different now. Clothes littered the floor, along with garbage and empty glasses of scotch. She grimaced in disgust, wondering how he could live in such a mess. He returned a moment later with the tux, which was wrinkled and dirty.

"Nice, you didn't even bother to keep it clean. Same goes for your apartment. Do you ever pick up after yourself?"

His eyes flashed dangerously and he slammed his fist into the wall two feet from her head. "Why don't you lay off, huh?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her surprise at his sudden burst of anger. "Fine. But I'm not the one who proved to be completely unreliable and selfish."

His eyes flashed again, and she thought she saw a shadow of an emotion buried beneath all the anger. "Just get out, alright? You got what you came for, so go."

"My pleasure," Max said, waving in a falsely cheery way and then walking out the door. He slammed it behind her and she made her way out of the apartment complex.

* * *

Alec took another swallow of scotch, his eyes focused blankly on the wall in front of him as the liquid lit a burning path down his throat.

_Berrisford_.

His muscles tensed as the name whispered through his mind like a curse. His hands contracted tightly, and he jerked in surprise when his glass shattered under the pressure and sent jagged shards through this palm. Rather than moving, he clenched his hand into a fist and absorbed the pain. He deserved it.

_Rachel_.

This time it was more like a sigh dancing through his mind, and it was accompanied by an echo of long-forgotten laughter. _Her_ laughter.

He'd let them kill her. And then he'd let them take his memory of her away.

He slowly uncurled his fist and reached into his pocket, extracting a small locket with intricate designs and a thin gold chain. Alec had never understood where it had come from. He had found it one day, buried underneath his mattress at Manticore. His first instinct had been to trade it with the guards for something more enjoyable, but he had never been able to hock the thing.

Now he remembered. All it had taken was a brief glance at her father, and Alec's memories had forcefully returned to him. He had taken the locket from her, and he had hidden it away from Manticore the night before they had thrown him into Psy Ops for Reindoctrination.

He stood up and began to pace, ignoring the small droplets of blood that fell from his hand. The guilt overrode him completely, squeezing his throat like a fist. He gasped and halted dead, closing his eyes to force the emotion away. It was usually easy to do; he had never had a problem burying the regret and anger and sadness before. Manticore had taught him well.

The blissful numbness only lasted for a brief second though, and then her face flashed through his mind again. The guilt came crashing back in, bringing along with it the agony of bone-deep regret. He felt as if every cell in his body was screaming for some kind of resolution, but he had no way to provide it.

He had never felt like this before—never even been close. The only time he'd experienced anything remotely like this had been when he'd almost killed Max. But he hadn't hurt her, and now all that rested on his shoulders from that instance was the loss of the Cure. This was different. Rachel was dead because of _him._

"_Fuck_," He cursed, the word barely more than a cracked whisper. Her buried his head in his hands, and then flinched when the glass from his palm bit into his face. His head shot up and he was striding before the door before he'd even realized he'd made a decision.

He just knew he had to get out of here. _Now_.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"_Since I was young, I've tasted sorrow on my tongue..._

_Too late, I'm coming undone."_

- Korn, Coming Undone

* * *

"Max? You like your beer all warm and watered down?"

Max glanced up from the rim of her glass, around which her fingers had been absently tracing. O.C met her confused stare with a look of open amusement.

"What?" Max asked.

"Your beer ain't gonna be good if you don't start drinkin' it now."

"Right," Max said, automatically taking a sip of the bitter liquid. It usually wasn't that good anyway, so she didn't see O.C's concern. Of course, if she was actually able to experience the effects that alcohol usually produced, she might appreciate it more.

"Where's yo' head tonight?"

Max grimaced and took another swig of beer to hide her pause. Her thoughts were firmly on Alec, which only made her angry and annoyed. She didn't _want_ to think about Alec; she didn't want to care.

"Just… Logan." Max said finally, liking the lie better than the truth. Logan wasn't a fun topic either, but him lingering on her mind was much more acceptable.

As Max expected, O.C believed it. "What's wrong between you and yo' boy?"

"Nothing's wrong," Max said, and then barked a bitter laugh. "Well, besides the usual—y'know, that a virus will kill him if we touch. I just don't know…."

"Don't know what?" O.C prompted when Max didn't answer. Max frowned, because it turned out she really didn't feel like talking about this, either.

"I just don't know," Max finished simply, honest confusion coloring her voice. O.C seemed to accept this, but then she was accustomed to Max's ineloquence.

"It's gon' be okay, boo. You know that, don't you?" O.C spoke earnestly but not truthfully, and they both knew it. Cindy couldn't know that, anymore than Max could know what was going on with Alec.

Max wished for a moment that O.C would stop trying to comfort her and just be honest, but she knew O.C was only trying to be a good friend. A lot of Ordinaries delighted in keeping themselves ignorant; they hid away the worst possible scenario so that they didn't have to think about it. Although Max had acted that way in the past, she was growing tired of it. The worst always seemed to happen to _her_, which meant she needed to make herself aware of it.

She was saved from thinking anymore on the subject because she caught sight of someone who, though not on her mind at the present moment, had been lingering there most of the night. Alec had entered the bar while she'd been talking to O.C, and he was now standing at the edge of the pool table.

She would have been relieved, but she could tell that he still wasn't himself. His shoulders were tense and rigid, and the expression on his face was both broody and foreboding. Her enhanced vision took in the tight lines around his eyes and mouth, and the steely look in his usually happy green eyes.

Whatever he was doing here, it couldn't be good.

"Max? _Max_." O.C called her name a few more times, and Max turned to look at her.

"What?" She asked again, eyes flitting between O.C and Alec.

"What's goin' on with you tonight?" O.C asked, although Max suspected it was a rhetorical question. "I asked you if somethin' was wrong with yo' boy."

"What? Logan's fine," Max said distractedly. Alec had started talking to a big group of guys, and he seemed to be challenging one of them to a game of pool. Hustling someone who had five or six friends to back him up was a terrible idea, and Alec knew that.

"Not Logan," O.C said with a small, rather knowing smile. "Alec. He's lookin' upset."

Max looked at O.C in surprise, and the other woman raised her eyebrows. After a moment, Max shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Something _is_ going on with him, though."

"Duh," O.C said, her gaze flicking back and forth between Max and the transgenic in question. "You say somethin' to him, boo?"

Max looked back at her, startled. "What? No. And even if I had, nothing I could say would upset Alec. He doesn't care."

O.C raised her eyebrows again, the look on her face distinctly perceptive. "You sure about that?"

"Of course," Max answered absently, watching Alec's game progress. He had missed the first few balls, but each bad shot had clearly been purposeful. He wasn't just scamming his competitor; Alec was _playing_ with him.

"This don't look good, boo," O.C said, her voice a few pitches lower. "He don't usually flaunt like this."

Alec flaunted all the time, but it was always in a harmless, carefree way. Max wasn't so sure about this, especially when she saw the way Alec began to make superb shots. There was no finesse to his hustling, no care to hide his aptitude.

"I think I'm going to go check it out," Max said decidedly, taking one more swig of her drink before hopping off of her stool. O.C tipped her head in approval, and Max walked over to the pool table. She heard the argument as soon as she was within earshot.

"You're playing us, man!"

Max looked quickly at Alec, expecting a response to diffuse the situation. Instead, the transgenics eyes narrowed and his lips quirked into a mean smile. "Well, you're not as dumb as you look."

"Alec!" Max said sharply, alerting all of the testosterone-driven men to her presence. She ignored the leers as Alec swung around to look at her.

"Who's the pretty lady?" Loser Number One said, taking a step toward her. She wrinkled her nose in disgust but didn't back away. If she had to, she could take him down easily. Loser noticed her lack of reaction and took it as a sign of interest.

"She yours?" He asked Alec, eyebrows raised. "If she is, she won't be much longer. Bitch is taking a liking to me, I can tell."

Max let the revulsion blanket her face. It was so tempting; just a flick of her wrist and he'd be on the floor, begging for mercy and too afraid to ever talk to another woman. She would be doing the world a favor, really—but she couldn't. The risk of exposure was too great.

"Alec, what are you doing?" She asked, turning away from the loser and focusing on the transgenic. Up close he looked even more haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and a hard set to his jaw.

The tension in his mouth was even more noticeable when he tried to smile. It was a dim, ghostly comparison to his usual grin. "Just a friendly game of pool, Max."

"Yeah, real _friendly_," Max said tightly, glancing pointedly at the six guys standing around them. It began to occur to Max that Alec wasn't just trying to win some cash; he seemed to be deliberately picking a fight. The insults, the blatant display of his abilities, all of it pointed in that direction, but Max couldn't figure out _why_.

"I'll make you a deal," Loser said, and suddenly his meaty hands were clamped around her wrists. "Give us some time with your girl, and we'll forget all about this little game of pool."

Max could have effortlessly freed herself, but Alec jerked the guy away and slammed him into the pool table before she had the chance.

"Alec, stop it!" Max hissed as people began to look their way. A fight in Crash would expose them completely. She and Alec could take these men down, but not without looking like a couple of revved-up freaks. "You don't need to defend me!"

At this Alec grinned again, and there was malice laced inside the smile. "Believe me, I'm not."

And then he pounced on Loser, which caused Loser's friends to pounce on Alec. Max watched helplessly for a moment as the fight broke out, and then she joined the fray. She took down two guys before she was freed enough to reach Alec, and once she did she grabbed his arm and yanked him away from Loser, whose face he had been relentlessly pounding.

"Let go of me!" He snarled, teeth bared.

"No!" She growled, moving very close to his furious, heated face. "If you don't come with me right now, I swear to God I'll hand you to White, myself. We're leaving!"

They had the attention of most of the bar now, and the bartender was gesturing to the bouncers. Max grabbed Alec by the scruff the neck; he shrugged her off violently but moved towards the exit, anyway. She gestured to security that they were leaving, and then jerked her thumb in the direction of the other guys. If they were stupid enough to follow, Max knew that she and Alec would have to take them down outside. Luckily, they looked like they were too surprised to consider the option. Max followed Alec out of the bar, making sure he didn't try to double back.

He didn't, but he did try to leave.

"Where are you going?" She asked fiercely. He glanced back at her, looking almost surprised that she'd asked.

"What's it to you?" He asked, voice still set to that hard, cruel drawl he'd used with the men in the bar.

"If you think you're doing this again, you're wrong," Max answered, shaking her head. She latched onto his arm, and didn't let go when he tried to pull free. "Come with me, or I'll _drag_ you."

His head shot up; her threat had clearly surprised him. His eyes narrowed on her face, and gradually he shook his head and laughed. "You couldn't."

"Look at me," she demanded, and his eyes flickered over her enraged expression. "I'm so mad at you right now, I think I could. And if not, I could still put up one _hell_ of a fight."

He looked ready to take her on for a moment, posture tense and hands raised. She even thought he might accept, since he had deliberately gone looking for a fight in Crash. Then the weariness seemed to drip down his body like rain, and his shadowed face loosened. "Where are we going?"

She started walking. "Your apartment."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"_And the things that are keeping you here are not keeping me here,  
And the things that are keeping you here will keep me away."_

-Dashboard Confessional, Drowning

* * *

The second they returned to the apartment, Alec sank to the floor and covered his eyes with his hands. Max stared at him, her mouth falling open at the profound sadness that seemed to fall over him. She didn't let it soften her.

"What were you _thinking_?" She demanded, hands on hips and eyes fiery.

He didn't look up. She waited, but he didn't answer either.

"Alec!" Max shouted, resisting the urge to drag him to his feet and force him to look at her. "What the hell was going through your head when you decided to take on six guys over a stupid game of pool?"

If she had been anyone else, the glare he shot her would have been enough to freeze her in her tracks. Even for a genetically engineered soldier she had trouble meeting his eyes.

"I could've taken them," Alec hissed.

"That's not the point!" Max shouted, her fingers itching to shake him until his head rattled. "You may have been able to win the fight—and that's a big maybe, considering you can't track six guys at once no matter how trained you are—but even that would've had consequences. Or did you forget that White wants your head on a platter?"

Suddenly, he was on his feet and bearing down on her. She took an involuntary step back, and then tilted her chin in defiance. She wouldn't cave; she wouldn't let him scare her again.

"Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" Alec demanded, his words frighteningly clear and calm. They were a complete contrast to the hurricane howling in his eyes. "Who are you to save me?"

"I'm—" But she found she had no answer to that. She was what? His friend? Not likely; she'd said herself dozens of times that they weren't friends. So what, then? His family—his _sibling_? No, those weren't right, either.

"I'm all you've got," She said finally, knowing that this, at least, was true.

His lips opened and stretched, but she couldn't call the grimace he wore anything close to a smile. "Who says I need anyone?"

"Yeah, that's why you stayed in Seattle when you could have gone anywhere else," She scoffed, gaining confidence as she spoke. She knew she had him on this point, even if she wasn't sure of anything else. "Because you're desperate to be _alone_."

"God, I _hate_ you," Alec breathed, shaking his head roughly. A thousand resentments existed in those three words. "Do you even _know_ how much?"

Max was surprised by how deeply the words sliced into her; she half expected to have nicks on her bones. She licked her lips and steeled herself. "I don't care. Do you hear me? I don't care how you feel. I'm not letting you get yourself killed!"

"Why bother?" He asked, honest incredulity sneaking past the fury swirling around him. "You don't even like me!"

"Because—" _Because you look like Ben_, her mind finished when her lips couldn't. _Because you look like Ben and I let him die, and letting you die would be like living it all over again._

He didn't know the story surrounding Ben; couldn't know about that hellish day in the woods. Still, he must have known enough to read her expression.

"It's him, isn't it?" Alec asked, voice low. He didn't specify; she didn't need him to. "You hate me for the same reason you can't let go of me. It's because I look like him."

"No," she said, and was surprised when the denial felt honest. "I hate you because you've screwed up and let me down over and over, and I can't let go—" She stopped, too afraid that if she repeated his words, it would sound like she was claiming him. "And I keep _helping_ you," she amended after a moment, "because like it or not, we're the same."

The ferocity that flooded his face was unexpected, and she flinched back from it. "We're _not_ the same. You have no idea what it was like."

Manticore. He was talking about Manticore. She felt stirrings of morbid curiosity, but she forced them back down. Alec didn't need an interrogation right now; he needed someone to listen. Even if he didn't know yet that he wanted to talk.

"Then explain it to me." Max challenged, taking a step toward him. The way he tensed reminded her of a threatened cat, back arched and fur standing on end.

He looked for a moment like he might attack her, and she quickly prepared herself for the first blow. Then he whirled around and marched to the kitchen. She followed him, lips tightening as she watched him pull out a bottle of scotch. It was fine quality and she didn't have to wonder how he got it.

He took his time pouring the drink, and then looked up at her again. The expression on his face was frighteningly hard. "I would, but you wouldn't get it. You can't understand, because _you_ ran."

Not once had she ever regretted the escape. It had freed her, and even if she'd fought her entire life to keep that freedom, she'd at least escaped Manticore's cage. For the first time, however, she realized how it might look to him.

"We didn't do it to abandon you," she defended, avoiding his gaze for the first time that night. "We just wanted—"

"You think I don't know why you did it?" Alec interrupted scathingly. His glass sat untouched on the counter, and she wondered distantly why he'd poured if he wasn't going to drink it. "It doesn't matter. You _left_ us."

"Maybe," Max said, because she couldn't deny it. "But I'm still transgenic. I still know what it's like to—"

"_Bullshit_," He interrupted, knocking the glass of the counter with a quick swipe of his hand. It shattered, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor. "You might be one of us, but you still think like _them_."

She felt hot anger flood back into her, like the second attack of a hurricane after the quiet lull that existed in the center. "_That's_ bullshit! You think I don't know what it's like to be hunted—to be _hated_? I may not have grown up in Manticore, but I'm not normal, either, Alec. I know what it's like to be different!"

"That's not what I mean," He said tightly, turning away from her. "I haven't forgotten the day we met."

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. Then the memory crashed into her, and she closed her eyes against it.

"You were real understanding about assassinations back then, Max," Alec continued mockingly. She didn't need to see his face to know that it looked like stone.

"It wasn't the same," Max argued, but it was pointless. She couldn't defend herself without explaining the terrible despair and loneliness she had felt when she'd been recaptured by Manticore; she couldn't defend herself without telling him about Ben and Zack all of the other people who had died instead of her.

Hell, she had to try anyway. "You don't understand how it looked to me. You were cocky and arrogant and you didn't give a _damn_—"

"I _know_," He said, and for just a second he looked desperate and lost again. "I wish I could go back—but it won't go away and I—" He broke off, and for a moment his ragged breathing was the only sound in the room.

"Like I told you, you can't understand," he finished finally, sounding composed and almost normal. But the composure was a lie, like catching your balance just before you fell off the edge of a cliff. You avoided the initial fall, but it only took a strong gust of wind to send you teetering again.

"Alec," she said, slowly and clearly. "_What did you_ _do_?"

The unwavering sadness shrouded him like a blanket again, and his eyes slid closed. Yet, despite the utter vulnerability he was showing her, his jaw clenched in determination. "_No_."

She wanted to howl in frustration, but she knew it would do as much good as shouting at a mountain to move. Even in his supreme misery, he wasn't letting her get through to him; in fact, he was fighting her tooth and nail. If the pain of whatever he was going through wasn't enough to weaken his resolve, she didn't think anything could.

Unless…

She ground her teeth together in denial. No. She _wasn't_ telling him—she couldn't.

But he needed someone to understand, and maybe the shock of it would lower his defenses. She closed her eyes and shook her head, everything in her wanting to walk away. But everything in her also wanted to stay and help him—maybe because he looked like Ben or maybe because she just couldn't let him drown. She opened her eyes, took one more look at the sorrow that was so familiar to her, and then said the three words that had the power to affect the fractured transgenic.

"I killed him."

His reaction was even stronger than she'd expected. He froze, his head shooting up and his eyes widening until they seemed to take up half of his face. He had already been pale, but bewilderment and wariness robbed his skin of what little color he'd had left.

"_What_?"

She'd wanted to do this calmly, straightforwardly, but the grief was already gathering into a ball in her throat. "Ben. I killed him."

"No," he said, his denial for her instead of him this time.

She nodded, trying to keep her eyes from flooding. They did anyway. "He was a murderer—you know that. I wanted to stop him, _help_ him, but I—" Her voice broke, and a few tears trickled passed her lashes. "Manticore was there, and they were closing in. He couldn't make it out on his own and I couldn't carry him—he didn't want to go back."

"Max," Alec whispered, but she could see through her own emotional haze that he wasn't there yet. Sympathy but not empathy—close but not close enough.

"He asked me to," Max continued, her voice clearer now. "How can you say no when someone you love asks you something like that? I felt his neck break in my hands."

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so—" He broke off, and she knew the sudden spark in his eyes was dangerous. "Why are you telling me this?"

Suspicion, wariness—everything she'd expect from a good soldier, and all in a split second. She felt the small opening she'd had to reach Alec slip away like sand through her fingers.

"Trying to show you that I understand," she said honestly, but it was too late. What she'd done had come too close to manipulating him, and he knew it.

He didn't answer her for a moment, and the silence that settled around them reminded her of the crest of a wave just before it crashed back into the ocean floor.

"Get out." Alec said suddenly, the words nothing more than a growl from deep in his throat.

"Alec, I—"

"Get out!" The explosive anger was back and right up on the surface. The way he looked just then, his features twisted and furious, she almost didn't recognize him.

She wanted to stay. She really did, and that in itself scared her. Why did she care so much what happened to him? It wasn't her job to save him, especially if he didn't even want to be saved. Why did she keep trying?

"Fine," She said after a moment. Still she hesitated, hoping he would change his mind and also hoping he wouldn't. His face remained stony, however, and it didn't matter what she hoped. He wanted her gone, so she'd leave him alone.

For now.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews! I really appreciate it._ _Onto the next chapter!_

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"Y_ou love me but you don't know who I am,  
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand."_

- 3 Doors Down, Let Me Go

* * *

"Max, hey."

She smiled at the warm greeting, moved by the blunt happiness that Logan always showed at her presence. She wished she had come here just to see him, since that was obviously enough of a reason for him, but she had things she needed to do.

"Hey, Logan." Then, not wanting to feel rude, she added, "How you been?"

"Alright, just working hard. Haven't been able to come up with another scheme to get Debourgh yet, but I'll let you know when I do," Logan replied, referring to the man that they had tried to trap during Max and Alec's botched undercover mission. Then he focused completely on her. "How about you? You look a little tired."

She _was_ tired. She didn't usually sleep much, but she had been missing out on those one or two hours for the last few days. Worry, frustration, anger, or some combination of the three was probably the cause, although she didn't want to explore her psyche any further to find out.

"Just busy lately," she answered blithely. If she didn't want to delve into her emotional state, herself, she certainly didn't want to discuss it with Logan.

"I've noticed. You haven't stopped by in a while."

That statement brought two thoughts to Max's mind, neither of which was pleasant. One, that she had barely noticed Logan's absence over the past few days, and two, that he had very obviously noticed hers. His affection for her ran deep; he might love her more completely than anyone ever had. And yet, unlike his love, which seemed to her like an endless, flowing river, hers felt like the shallow pools left on the beach after the tide went out. Deep and cool at first, but eventually they turned stagnant and evaporated.

Was there something wrong with her? Was there a reason that her feelings for him, which had been so strong and encompassing a few months ago, were barely glimmers now?

Or perhaps she had changed after being recaptured by Manticore. Maybe her views had shifted. Before then, Logan's love had seemed like a soft and often-worn sweater; it made her feel safe and comforted, like nothing from her old life could touch her. He lived in a tower in the sky, safely tucked away from the struggle even though he fought against it every day.

She had thought there was a place for her in his ivory tower, that she could be safe there, too. She had realized all too soon, however, that he could never offer her protection from her past. Her enemies had reclaimed her with frightening ease, and they had invaded and infected her body with a disease to kill the man she loved. She couldn't feel the way she did before when she would walk into his apartment and forget her problems for those few short hours. They followed her now, choking her in the elevator and swirling around her in his apartment.

"Max?"

She was jarred out of her thoughts by his voice, which was smoothly concerned. She glanced up at him.

"You looked…sad," he said, blue eyes studying her face closely. She was suddenly afraid that her thoughts were written on her skin. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Max said, a little curtly. She decided to broach the topic that she'd come here to discuss, as much to get on with it as to change the subject. "It's Alec."

The change in Logan was slight, but noticeable. His eyes dimmed slightly and his lips thinned. She could read the displeasure clearly, but she wasn't entirely sure what it meant.

"What about him?" he asked, voice deceptively normal.

"I think he's in trouble."

Now Logan's thoughts were scribbled across his face, and she could read them easily. He wanted her to forget about it and let the rogue transgenic deal with his own problems.

"I know something's going down and I want to help," she said, perhaps a touch firmer than necessary.

"I understand that," Logan said, sounding patient and almost indulgent, "but eventually Alec is going to have to take responsibility for himself. He puts himself in these situations, so he should have to deal with them." After a short pause, Logan added, "It's not your job to save him, Max."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Max snapped, before she'd considered the wisdom of her words. She took a deep breath. "Look, I get your point, but I can't just leave him. You know that."

"No, actually I don't," Logan said, blue eyes flashing like ice now that he was angry. "I have no idea why you keep letting him back into your life. Think of the things he's done to you, Max! He nearly killed you! And then he lost us the cure to the Virus, and all you ever do is complain about him anyway—"

He said more, but the rest of it was lost in Max's sudden and startling realization. Logan was _jealous_. Instead of convincing her to give up on Alec, his angry, heated jabs only served to illustrate the burning emotion behind them, and Max could do nothing but stare at Logan in stunned silence.

Why on _earth_ would he be jealous of Alec?

She wanted to ask, was nearly shaking with the desire to question him about it, but she didn't want to confront him, and she certainly didn't want to cause further damage to their already precarious relationship.

Logan had stopped by then, and was staring at her with blatant expectancy. But what did he expect, she wondered? An argument? Or an agreement? If it had been about anything else, she wasn't even sure of the way she'd react. But on this subject she was immovable.

"Listen carefully," Max said calmly, although her voice shook a little. "You don't have to understand why I'm doing this. The fact is, I'll figure it out with or without you—I'll just figure it out a little quicker if you help me."

She chanced a look at his face and saw that he looked resigned. The ice in his eyes had melted, pooling into a softer, sadder emotion. "Can you at least tell me why?"

She sincerely thought about how to put her feelings into words. She thought about Ben and Alec and Manticore, and she gradually realized that it didn't matter how long she spoke or how many words she said.

"I would, but I just don't think you'd understand," she answered honestly, her voice echoing the regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Logan nodded slowly, his eyes moving away from her. Then they flicked back, and he ventured a wan smile. "What do you need?"

She returned the smile. It took effort, but she figured she owed that much to him. "Information on a couple people. Thomas and Elizabeth Dawson, to be exact."

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, and she knew that he recognized the names. Because he had seen the guest list for the party, she wondered, or because he had grown up in the upper-class society? Either way, he looked suspicious. "Why?"

Max hesitated, and then decided to tell him the truth. It couldn't hurt. Max didn't even know if the couple had anything to do with Alec's rapid change. She was well aware that she was clutching at straws. "They were at the party, and we talked to them right before Alec took off. I think they might have triggered his reaction."

Logan digested the information, his face thoughtful. "You think he knows them?"

Max paused again and then admitted, "No, I don't think so. He didn't act any different when they walked up, and they didn't recognize him at all. I just… don't have anything else to go on."

"What, Alec won't talk to you?"

It was there, albeit barely. She could just hear the bitterness and slight mockery in the question. Still, it was enough.

"No," Max said shortly, her expression shuttering.

Logan seemed to have realized that he made a mistake. He opened his mouth and seemed on the verge of speaking for a moment, but then he closed it and focused on the screen. After typing the names into the computer, he waited for the information to appear.

"I don't see anything helpful," he said after a moment, eyes on the computer. The glow from the screen was reflected in his glasses. "No weird connections, no interest in genetics or the military."

Max thought for a moment. She hadn't expected much, but perhaps it was worth looking into, anyway. Alec was a brick wall for all the information he was giving her, and this was at least a way to move forward, even if it might be leading her in the entirely wrong direction. "Can you give me the address?"

Logan looked at her, something hardening in his face. Then he nodded and printed out the information. She carefully took the paper from him, making sure they didn't make contact.

"Thanks," Max said, already reading over his findings.

"No problem," Logan replied. "Just be careful, okay? You have no idea what Alec could be into."

One last warning, one last attempt to pull her away from the troubled transgenic. Max shook her head and ignored it, waving at Logan as she walked out of the room.

* * *

Sneaking into the vast grounds was slightly difficult, considering the security cameras and the eight-foot fence that covered the area. Still, Max had no trouble breaching the place, and she settled in the shadows to watch the house. With nothing to look for and no leads to follow, she could do little more than watch and hope to see something strange.

She didn't get her wish. After a few hours of surveillance, she had seen nothing odder than a gardener, a maid, and a group of security personal. While the security may have seemed strange before the Pulse, they were now a normal addition to nearly every expensive home. Crime had become a way of life for the poor and desperate, and these mansions were prime targets.

She hadn't once seen the owners of the house, although she had no real way to survey the entire place. If she could get into the feed from the cameras she would be able to see everything, but she had no hope of getting past security. Not even her abilities extended that far.

Finally she caught sight of the couple whom she and Alec had met at the party. They were standing by the window directly in front of Max, and they were dressed more casually but no less expensively than they had been that night. Aside from their wealth, which seemed impossible to Max, there was nothing weird about them.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. She had known this was a long shot, but it was still disappointing to realize she'd wasted a whole night for nothing. She took one last look at the house and then snuck to the fence, which she leapt over with ease.

Just then, the gate opened. Max tensed and looked for cover, but the side of the road was clear of any bushes or trees. She sunk back into the shadows and hoped whoever was leaving the house didn't see her. She spotted him a moment later, and felt a vague stirring of recognition. He was older, with gray hair and a sharp gaze. A gaze which swung towards her.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Max placed a bland smile on her face and stepped forward, wracking her brains for an excuse. He was looking at her expectantly, and she realized where she had seen him before. He had attended the party as well. Elizabeth and her friend had excused themselves to talk to him.

"Hi," Max said, holding out her hand and praying he didn't recognize her. They had never spoken, and she and Alec had left just after that. The man returned her gesture and they shook hands.

"Is there something you needed?" he asked politely, his shrewd eyes seeming to take in her dark sweater and jeans.

"Yeah," Max said, searching wildly for an excuse. "A signature."

"Sorry?"

"I delivered a package here last night," Max said quickly, smiling in embarrassment. "I forgot to get a signature and now my boss is out for my head. Only he sent me over here after my shift ended, and I just realized I forgot my clipboard."

She had no idea if he believed her story, but he didn't question her. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure if you return tomorrow Mr. Dawson would be more than willing to sign for you."

"That's fine," Max said quickly, backing away. Her motorcycle was parked in the opposite direction, and she'd have to double back. She didn't mind, though, as long as she escaped this conversation without him suspecting her. "I'll come back."

A sleek black car pulled up, and the man reached for the door handle. Before getting into the car, however, he turned back to her. "Good luck with your boss."

Max's grimace was real as she thought of Normal. "Thanks. I'll need it."

The man smiled and slid into the backseat, and the vehicle sped off down the hill. Max breathed a deep sigh of relief and waited for it to disappear from view completely. Then she shook her head and moved towards her motorcycle.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"_Whatever doesn't kill you,__  
Is going to leave a scar."_

- Marilyn Manson, Leave a Scar

* * *

"Move it, people! Bip, bip, bip!"

Max rolled her eyes at Normal and continued with the same pace as before. She opened her locker and stuffed her belongings inside, and then ambled over to the dispatch station.

"I see you're moving at your usual glacial speed," Normal sneered as he doled out the packages. "Is it _impossible_ for you to walk like a normal human being?"

Max grinned wryly as she imagined blurring around the warehouse for the benefit of her stunned boss. "What can I say? Late night."

He looked down his nose at her, eyes disapproving behind his glasses. "That's not my problem. Get your packages delivered, and then get back here to pick up more. We're short-staffed today and I can't tolerate you wasting time."

Max would normally have rolled her eyes, but his words caused her to pause. "Who's out?" she asked casually, idly flicking through her packages.

"Alec," Normal said. Usually when one of his employees missed work, no matter the reason, Normal had a fit. Now, however, he actually looked concerned. "He didn't call or anything, either. You haven't heard from him, have you?"

She looked up. No one knew about her shared past with Alec, so it was surprising that Normal would think he'd contact her. "No, why would I?"

He considered her for a moment, and then shook his head. "No reason. Now, no more time for chit-chat! Get moving!"

She sneered at him and moved towards her bike, fastening her helmet to her head as she went. It was pretense, of course; her transgenic abilities made the head gear completely unnecessary. As she mounted her bike, O.C. walked up to her.

"I gotta go all the way out to Sector 10," O.C. complained, mirroring Max's earlier actions and swinging her leg over her bike.

Max frowned as she thought of the area; she had been out there just last night. "What's the address?"

O.C. rattled of the street name and numbers, and Max felt her pulse quicken; the delivery went to a house just a few miles down the road from the Dawsons'. While last night had been a waste, Max couldn't help being interested. All of Alec's problems had started at that upper-class party, and she _knew_ one of the guests had something to do with it.

"I'll take it," she volunteered impulsively, snatching the package from O.C.'s hands. Cindy looked grateful but also a little suspicious.

"Why?" She asked, eyes narrowed.

"No reason," Max replied, which was mostly the truth. She had no reason to think making this deliver would help at all. Still, it was worth a shot. Alec was missing work and carelessly putting himself at risk, and she had to figure out a way to break the cycle. Otherwise she wasn't sure what would happen to him.

O.C. looked for a moment like she was going to argue, and then she shook her head. "Fine. Just make sure it gets there and you get a signature, or else Normal will have my ass."

"I know how to do my job," Max said, but a smile lessoned the defensiveness of her words.

"Yeah, when you show up to do it," Cindy shot back, but she returned Max's smile. "I'll see you later, boo."

"Sure," Max said absently, tucking her new package into her backpack.

* * *

The house was huge and sprawling, but Max was no longer surprised after spending the last few days looking at such homes. There was a fence surrounding the property, just like the others, and she could only catch a narrow glimpse of the building itself. She looked down at the package, which was small and unremarkable in its brown paper wrapping, then she walked over to the gate and rang the buzzer.

It took a few moments, and she had reached out to ring again when a voice crackled over the intercom. It asked her purpose, and she replied. Then the gate slid open and she was granted entry. She smiled wryly to herself as she thought of who they were letting inside their secluded little castle; a skilled transgenic cat burglar.

Once she reached the front door, she rang the doorbell and waited impatiently. After a few minutes, the huge oak door swung open and a thin, dark-haired woman stood on the other side.

"I got it, Maria," the woman said, facing the other way as she spoke to who Max assumed was the maid. Then she turned around, and Max had to stop herself from flinching—the woman was covered in scars. Half of her face and what little Max could see of her body were badly burned.

"Hi," the woman said, and upon closer inspection Max could see that she was young, probably not much older than Max herself. "Can I help you?"

"I—" Max floundered for a small moment and then pulled herself together. She wouldn't act strangely. She knew what it was like to be considered a freak, and the last thing she wanted to do was make this poor girl feel the same way. "I'm here to deliver a package."

"Sure," the girl said, and when she smiled Max could see that she used to be beautiful. "For my father, Robert Berrisford?"

Max looked down at the name printed on the package. "That's the one," Max said, smiling back at the girl as she looked up.

"I'll go get him. Would you like to come inside while you wait?"

Max was incredibly curious about seeing the inside of the house, so she accepted the offer and stepped through the door. The lavish décor no longer stunned her, although a part of her longed to raid the place. Reformed or not, she had lived most of her life as a criminal, and it was hard to control the impulse sometimes. Old habits died hard, she supposed.

The girl left, presumably to find her father. Max thought it might take a good ten minutes, if the house was as massive as it seemed. Her curious eyes scanned the place, pausing on a beautiful family portrait that hung relatively close to the entrance of the house. She assumed the young girl in the painting was the same one she'd met just a few seconds ago, and the man must have been Robert Berrisford. The other person in the portrait was probably his wife.

The young girl didn't have scars in the portrait, proving that they were fairly new. Max pitied her, unable to imagine how it would feel to have her appearance altered so drastically.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Max quickly looked away from the painting, focusing instead on the package in her hands. She would deliver it, and nothing would come of this trip. She had known that would be the case when she had taken the package from O.C., but again Max couldn't help feeling disappointed. She had a sinking suspicion that she would never find out what was bothering Alec. He would either solve it himself, or he would get killed before he had the chance.

That thought filled her with a profound sadness. As illogical as it was, she felt like she was failing again. Alec was slowly dying in front of her, and she couldn't save him, just like she hadn't been able to save Ben.

"Miss?"

Max looked up, startled not only by the sudden voice but by the fact that she recognized it. She stared at the middle-aged man for a brief moment before she realized where she'd seen him: Outside of the Dawsons' place.

"Jam Pony delivery," Max chirped cheerfully, unsure of the situation. Should she acknowledge him, or pretend they had never met? He probably hadn't forgotten her. She had the curse of being memorable. An ordinary person would call her striking quality a gift, but to Max it was only a hindrance. When you spent your entire life running and hiding, being unforgettable was dangerous.

The man stared at her a second too long, something she was also used to, but she didn't know the purpose behind his gaze. Then he took the package and said, "Thank you."

She nodded and held out her clipboard, which he grabbed as well. He turned to his daughter, who stood at his shoulder. "Honey, would you run and get me a pen? I think I left one on the desk in my office."

Max opened her mouth to say she had one, that it was right there on the clipboard, but the girl was already hurrying away.

"What do you think of the painting?" he asked idly, tipping his head not to the family portrait, but to a canvas that must have hung behind her. He undoubtedly wanted to show off his pricey artwork, and Max resignedly turned to look at the image in question. She saw only the door and a section of blank, white wall.

"What—?" She started, but broke off when she felt a sharp, painful prick on her arm.

Max jerked around in surprise, staring at Berrisford with wide, suspicious eyes. He was holding a syringe in his hand, and she realized in a split second what he had done. Shocked and frightened, she instinctively moved towards the door, but the chemically-induced dizziness made her stumble. He reached out and caught her, and she did her best to shake him off.

"If you don't let go of me, I'll...." Max growled, but the threat died on her numbed lips. Her vision was turning black at the edges.

"Is she alright, daddy?" Max heard the alarmed, feminine voice distantly, and struggled for a second to form a reply or cry for help. Those, too, failed to make it past her lips.

"She'll be fine, sweetheart," Max heard Berrisford say as she slipped into unconsciousness. "I'll take care of her."

* * *

_A/N: So.... there's the twist. Muahahahaha! New update coming tomorrow!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

_"I've been here before,  
I've seen you before.  
[And] I can't escape winding down these halls."_

- Trapt, These Walls

* * *

Max clenched her jaw to fight off the haze, trying to take in her surroundings. The room was beautiful, with expensive furniture and old, leather-bound books lining the shelves. The soft trill of piano keys echoed somewhere in the distance, but Max couldn't recognize the tune.

"You're awake."

Her head jerked towards the voice, and she smothered a groan as her aching muscles screamed their protest. "What do you want?"

"That's quite easy," the man replied, stepping into her line of vision. She gasped, but she really shouldn't have been surprised to see Robert Berrisford. Though her recollections were hazy, she remembered the way he'd drugged her. "I want justice."

Max shook her head. The words were simple, but the meaning behind them was impossible to grasp. "Justice for what? I haven't—I haven't done anything to you."

"Not you," Berrisford replied, and the look on his face was almost… regretful. "I wish I didn't have to involve you. But you're his, and he has to know what it feels like feels like to have someone he loves taken away."

Did he mean Logan? Her heart jumped in her throat, but she forced her nerves to calm. She could get out of this. All she had to do was focus and wait for an opening. "I don't even know who you're talking about. You've confused me with someone else."

"No, it's _you_," Berrisford replied, sounding aggravated now. He began to pace back and forth in front of her. "You were with him at the party—I saw the way you two acted. He loves you."

Max swallowed hard, realizing at last that Berrisford was referring to Alec, not Logan. The transgenic had obviously done something to offend him, and now Berrisford was trying to get revenge.

"You're wrong," she said, voice hoarse. "Alec—the man you want has nothing to do with me. I don't matter to him."

"No!" Berrisford denied loudly, and the agitation she had seen earlier revealed itself fully now. "Don't tell me that! I _saw_ you. I saw you at the party, and I saw you sneaking around Dawson's place! You're helping him, which means you're just as bad as he is."

Any regret Berrisford felt for involving her was quickly disappearing, she could tell by the furious look in his eyes. Even now he was condemning her, probably so that it would be easier to hurt her. She had seen these types before; people who rationalized their actions by loss and hurt and justice. She knew there was no arguing against Berrisford now that his mind was made up, because her words couldn't reach that cold, furious part of him that longed to see Alec suffer.

No, her best chance was to keep him talking and distracted while she looked for a way to escape.

"How did you find me?" she asked, flexing her hands minutely to test her situation. Handcuffs encased her wrists. It would take a lot of pulling to break them. She could manage it, but not without showing Berrisford what she was doing.

Berrisford's nervous energy had quieted slightly, but he continued to pace. "I didn't—not really. You said you worked for a delivery company, and I knew you were spying on the Dawsons' place. I sent packages to every local delivery service, addressing them to come back here. I hoped that, given your interest in this neighborhood, you'd see the package and want to deliver it yourself."

Max closed her eyes, stunned by how well Berrisford had played her. His plan had been completely unstable, relying on the chance that she had told the truth about being a messenger and that she would happen upon his packages. And yet, despite the unlikelihood of such a trick working, she had fallen perfectly into his trap.

"I never thought it would succeed," Berrisford continued, and she had the creepy thought that he had read her mind. "It was such a long shot, but I had to do _something_. I'd already hired a private detective to find you, but he said it would take _months_, and I couldn't wait."

"Why me?" Max asked, furious that she had been dragged into this situation when it didn't really involve her. "Why not find Alec?"

Berrisford's lips twisted, his eyes filling with disgust. "I'm assuming you mean the monster who destroyed my daughter. I want to find him, but it was more important to find you. Don't you remember what I told you? He has to know what it feels like."

"What _what_ feels like?" Max demanded, another jolt of anger spiking through her and bringing along with it a burst of adrenaline. "What are you planning on doing to me?"

"I'm not going to kill you," Berrisford said, sounding almost like he was trying to reassure her. "And I'm not going to let you experience it—I'm not a monster. I won't torture you."

"Tell me, dammit!" Max shouted, baring her teeth and slamming her chair into the ground.

At her demand, Berrisford glanced towards the fireplace. She hadn't realized before, but the glow in the room came solely from a fire Berrisford must have recently built. He eyed the flames for a moment, and Max could see them reflected in his cold, steely eyes. Then he turned back to her.

"You saw my daughter, didn't you?" he asked, and abruptly Max remembered the girl who had greeted her at the door. Her mouth fell open in shock, and she yanked fiercely on the handcuffs that bound her.

That girl had been covered in burns.

* * *

Alec had to go back.

He had been fighting it steadily since the torturous idea had taken root inside his head, but he couldn't deny it any longer. He needed to revisit the place where everything had started. It was the only chance he had of ever finding peace.

He had been ignoring the idea because while it could save him, it could also very well destroy him. The pain was unbearable already, the guilt intolerable and the regret too heavy to carry. He had the irrational fear that all of those emotions would solidify inside of him if he went back, causing real, physical damage that he could never fix. Still, he couldn't live with this any longer. He wouldn't.

It was hard taking the first few steps to the door, but once he'd made it out of his apartment he couldn't stop. He felt himself being pulled insistently forward, and he continued in an almost trancelike state.

He had little recollection of walking through the city, but eventually he had reached the beginning of the large, fancy neighborhood. His fears doubled as he passed the spot where Manticore used to drop him off, leaving him to walk the rest of the way so as not to garner suspicion. He followed the same trail now, horrified by how familiar it was.

He had thought the chances of this being therapeutic would about equal the chances of it being destructive, but he was starting to believe he was wrong. If he continued on this crushingly familiar path, if he made it to the familiar house and walked through the familiar ornate front doors, all of this would be irrevocably real. He could no longer hide behind the possibility, no matter how slight, that it was just in his head. His emotions might not solidify, but his memories certainly would.

Still, he could not stop. He felt like he was trapped inside a speeding car, barreling full-tilt toward a brick wall. Worse, he felt like he was in the backseat of Manticore's ominous black SUV, being positioned and used like a gun or a knife.

It was too late now. The fence was in sight, the small, discreet buzzer just visible. His heart pounded heavily in his ears and his hands were slick with sweat. He hardly noticed his physical reactions, too caught up in his emotional ones. Thoughts whirled like a tornado inside of his brain, and then abruptly they went silent. A desperation took their place, one that had him running before he'd realized what he was doing.

He was over the fence and at the front door before he caught himself, but the desperation still clawed at his insides and he didn't slow. He had to see Berrisford, had to see Rachel's empty room, had to see the house set up exactly the way he knew it would be. He had to know that this was real, that he had killed her and that he was the worst kind of monster. He felt something inside of him retreat, and felt another something slide into its place. A steely determination settled over him.

He broke the door down with little thought, feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu as he entered the house. Some distant part of him realized that he could hear the soft trill of a piano.

_Am I really hearing it_, he wondered, genuinely unsure. _Or am I just _remembering_ it?_

He half expected her to be standing there, halfway up the stairs and smiling. Instead there were guards, and Alec took them out quickly and efficiently. The frantic energy was building again, and he picked up his pace. _Come on, _he begged of the house. _Show me what I've done. Show me what I _am.

He heard the light patter of footsteps, and it reminded him so forcefully of Rachel he gasped and stumbled. But it wouldn't be her, it couldn't be—

A petite brunette woman stood at the top of the stairs. She must have heard the noise since he hadn't made any effort to stay quiet. He'd wanted them to come. His eyes greedily scanned her face, and he realized with a sickening jolt that it was disfigured by a series of terrible burns. An inkling of an idea began in the depths of his brain, but he shoved it away adamantly.

"Where's Berrisford?" he demanded, his voice lower and harsher than anything he'd used lately. He sounded cold and intimidating to his own ears, and he felt vaguely bad for scaring this poor girl.

"I—I don't—" She didn't appear to be listening. Her eyes pored over his face just as his had scrutinized hers. Finally, she began to descend the stairs. Alec tensed, every muscle coiled tightly, but she made no move to threaten him.

"Simon," she said finally, an uncertain smile cracking her rough lips. He stumbled again and reached for the banister, fingers clawing for support.

"Oh, God, no," he hissed, shutting eyes. It couldn't be her. This tragic, wounded girl couldn't be her. He couldn't have destroyed her this way.

"Simon, please—"

"I'm _not_ Simon," he snarled, eyes still clenched tightly together. She was a maid, someone who had worked in the house while he'd been here. She wasn't Berrisford's daughter—she wasn't Rachel.

"Si—whoever you are, please, just look at me."

Unwillingly, out of control in much the same way he had been on the journey here, Alec opened his eyes and did what she asked. He immediately rejected the sight of her, but slowly he forced his mind around the block. He began to catalogue her features and compare them to the Rachel he remembered.

"No," Alec said raggedly, a shudder scraping its way up his spine. "No, you can't be—"

"It's me," Rachel said, and he struggled a moment more before accepting it. Of course it was her. He had known it the moment he had seen her at the top of the stairs.

All of the deadly purpose, the desperation and the fight drained out of him, leaving only sharp, bitter regret. He backed down the steps until he was looking up at her from the bottom of the staircase.

"What have I done?" he whispered, unable to look away from her damaged skin. It was worse than he had thought possible, and he felt sure now that it would break him. There was no hope of recovery.

"It wasn't you," she walked down the steps, moving the same way she had then, lightly and elegantly. He panicked and backed away as she neared, staring into her face with wide eyes. "Simon, I know it wasn't you. Please stop looking at me like that."

She had said it again, used his alias to address him. He couldn't hate her for it. He didn't move, didn't take his gaze away from her heartbreaking face.

"It was," he answered, his voice cracking. How could she still be naïve? How could she still believe in him? "Don't you get it? I was supposed to kill you. I set the bomb that must have—Oh, God—"

"I know," she answered, and there was something new in her voice, something that hadn't been there before. Sadness, maybe? Or perhaps it was wisdom. "You played your part, Simon. You betrayed my father and me, and you used my feelings to get to us. I know all of that. But I know there's more."

"More?" he asked. She stepped forward again. He flinched but didn't step back. "There's nothing more. I did this to you. There's no one else to blame."

"There's Manticore."

He inhaled sharply, hands reaching out convulsively as if to grab her. He immediately pulled them back, ashamed of the impulse. "You… you know?"

"Of course. Daddy always knew. It took him a long time, but he eventually told me. I had to know what happened—I had to know why you were sent here and why you set that bomb."

Alec closed his eyes tightly, wishing suddenly that he had never come. And equally wishing he could never be anywhere else. That day flooded back to him like ice water, drenching him in frozen memories. "I tried. I tried so hard—I thought I could stop it."

"I know," her eyes had an aching quality, and he hoped she wasn't aching for him. He didn't deserve that from her. He didn't deserve anything. "You tried to save me."

He shook his head. There was something fundamentally wrong with the way she said it, like she thought it was enough. Like trying and _failing_ were enough. "I should have fought harder. I didn't realize how much—how much I—"

"What?" she asked when he didn't finish. Her eyes were knowing in a way that they had never been before. "Please tell me."

"I didn't realize how much I loved you," Alec confessed, because she had asked and he couldn't deny her.

She smiled, and for one moment she was beautiful and young and whole again. "I loved you, too."

He was momentarily stunned by the sudden light shining from her, but after a second he shook his head fiercely. "No. You never knew me. If you had—"

"It doesn't matter. Simon, I—"

A loud thump echoed from the floor above them, and both Rachel and Alec looked up. He took a step toward her on impulse, scanning the ceiling as if it would hint at some hidden danger. When he looked back down, he was startled by how close she was.

"Daddy…," she whispered, still staring up at the ceiling. Then she looked at him. "Sometimes he drinks too much and I—I can't lift him when he falls. Do you think you could—?"

He should say no, absolutely not. Berrisford would skin him alive, and Alec wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't deserve it. Then he looked into her eyes, which were the same despite her altered face, and again he couldn't refuse. He nodded and she hurried up the stairs. He followed along after her, his thoughts rushing through his head.

They reached his office, where Alec had once stolen computer files and then listened to Rachel declare her love for him. She turned the handle, but it was locked.

"Here," he said, stepping forward, but she just gestured upward.

"The doorframe," she whispered, and he quickly ran his fingers over the dusty ledge. His fingers grasped a key. "I keep it there for times like this."

He handed it to her, feeling both elated and devastated when their fingers made contact, and she opened the door. He expected to see Berrisford, drunk and rolling around on the floor. He expected anger and violence and possibly even vomit. He did not expect to see Max, lying unconscious on the ground with Berrisford leaning over her.

Everything was still for one second, and then Alec exploded.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Having trouble with lyrics again; they'll be up as soon as I find them. Thanks so much for the reviews!_

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Alec's rage couldn't be tempered or controlled. It burst out of him with such frightening violence that he was sure Rachel would run screaming from the room. He couldn't concentrate on her, though, not when Max was lying on the floor with Berrisford looming over her like a grizzly bear.

"Get away from her!" Alec shouted, just as Berrisford bellowed, "_You_!"

They attacked each other simultaneously, and Alec was momentarily disarmed by Berrisford's bulk. But his superior skills combined with his explosive anger led to an extremely brief scuffle, and in seconds he had Berrisford by the neck. His face was hard and narrowed as he squeezed Berrisford's windpipe, feeling the man gasp beneath his fingers.

"Daddy! Simon, _no_!"

And then fingers were grappling at his hand, pulling at him to let go. He couldn't make his hand listen, couldn't force his body to obey hazy directions when his anger was so full and sharp.

"You're going to kill him! _Please don't do this_!"

Finally her voice reached inside of him, and abruptly his fingers went slack. Berrisford sputtered and coughed, sounding like a mutilated frog. Alec knew he should do something, knew he should try to talk to Rachel, who was no doubt terrified as she scrambled to reach her father. But all he could see was Max, and he was by her side quicker than anyone could blink.

He felt for a pulse first, his own heart seeming to hesitate as he searched for one. Finally it pounded into his fingers, strong and demanding. He released a shaky sigh and examined Max for injuries. His keen eyes found the needle marks in her arm.

Movement from behind caught his attention, and he jerked around, moving protectively in front of Max's prone form. "What have you done?" he snarled, eyes scanning Berrisford's infuriated, crimson face.

"Nothing," Berrisford denied. "She came by to make a delivery, and she fainted. I was tending to her when you showed up."

"Try again, you son of a bitch," Alec demanded, taking a menacing step forward. "There are track marks on her arm. You drugged her."

"Daddy?" Rachel had turned wide eyes to her father. It was clear that, for all her newfound wisdom, she still childishly believed the best of her father. "Daddy, tell me that isn't true."

"Of course not, sweetie," Berrisford returned. Alec didn't doubt that Rachel would believe her father.

Yet strangely enough, Rachel didn't look convinced. "But she was here hours ago, and you said you'd take care of her. I thought you left to take her to the hospital."

"I—it seemed extreme, honey, given the circumstances. She was just overheated, so I brought her in here—"

"And built a fire?" Rachel demanded. She stepped away from her father, incredibly moving closer to Alec. The flare of Berrisford's nostrils showed he didn't miss the movement.

"Give it up," Alec sneered. "Your own daughter isn't buying it. What were you going to do to her, you bastard?"

"I'm the bastard!?" Berrisford bellowed. "_Me_! You devastated my daughter! You left her with scars that will _never_ heal! She spent a month in ICU, four in the hospital, and she'll never be the same—_never_!"

"Dad," Rachel said, horror loosening her features. "How could you—what were you going to do?"

Berrisford glanced almost unwillingly towards the fire, and Alec went cold despite the heat of the room. Beside the fire were all sorts of tools—sharp pokers and flat fire shovels and other iron utensils. That would not be strange, except that they were arranged carefully on the edge of the fireplace, almost like a surgeon's tray. Alec understood before Rachel, but he heard her reaction when she finally got there.

"_Daddy_!" she shouted, and Alec had enough left in him to be surprised by the steel in her voice. "How could you even think about—you were going to burn her, weren't you? _Weren't you_! My God, only a monster would—"

"I was doing it for _you_!" Berrisford begged, eyes glued to his daughter. "Don't you see? He loves this girl, I know it, and she's just like him. We could get justice for what happened to you, for what he—"

"This isn't _justice_!" Rachel shouted, her face tightening, hardening. "This is vengeance, and it has nothing to do with me! If you'd asked me, you would have known I'd forgiven Simon a long time ago."

Berrisford seemed bewildered by that. "But—but _how_? He destroyed you!"

"No, he didn't," Rachel answered, and Alec was startled by the calm in her voice. Yet it was no less hard, no less unforgiving toward the father she adored. "I'm right here! I'm alive, and it's because of him. If he hadn't tried, the bomb would have gone off and we both would have died."

Alec opened his mouth to tell her that he did not feel he deserved this courtesy, but Berrisford interrupted. "But you stayed here, Rachel. You haven't gone to college or gotten a job—you haven't done any of the things you wanted to do. He _ruined_ your life!"

Rachel shook her head ruefully. "Don't you see? I didn't do any of those things because I thought you needed me. I was afraid you'd fall apart if I wasn't here. But it looks like it didn't matter," Rachel added, staring at the female transgenic splayed on the floor. "You fell apart anyway. I can't—I don't think I could ever look at you the same again."

Berrisford flinched visibly and reached for his daughter. Up until that point, Alec had been stuck in a kind of trance, struggling to process Berrisford's hideous plan. As Berrisford's hand grappled for his daughter, though, Alec's anger returned full force and he lunged for the man.

This time he shoved Berrisford against the wall as he squeezed his throat. This time he had no intention of letting go.

"You _son of a bitch_," Alec snarled, pulling the man forward and then slamming him back into the wall. Rachel was yelling behind him, but Alec saw and heard nothing but Berrisford's wide eyes and broken gasps. "Did you really think you could hurt her and get away with it? I'll _kill_ you for this."

He would, too. He could feel Berrisford's delicate throat start to crumble. Only a little more pressure and the man would be damaged beyond repair.

_But what would that solve? _

The thought came unexpectedly to his mind, and his fingers loosened a tiny fraction. Now that he'd asked the question, he couldn't let it go. It wiggled its way into his head and planted itself there.

What would killing Berrisford do, besides placate Alec's white-hot anger? Rachel would be fatherless, and Alec would be a murderer yet again—and this time it would be worse because he wasn't following orders. And Max, the woman he was defending in the first place, would look at him the same way she had when he'd told her about his solo-missions. She would look at him like he was a monster.

Almost without meaning to, Alec released Berrisford's neck, and the man slumped to the floor. The transgenic stared at him as Berrisford coughed and sputtered into the expensive carpet, and then Rachel abruptly blocked his view. She leaned over her father, sobbing as she examined him.

Alec stared for a moment and then turned away, looking at Max instead. He could see her eyelashes stirring and he hurried to reach her. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up alone in a situation like this.

"Max?" he asked, fingers instinctively stroking her cheek as her eyelashes struggled to lift. "Maxie, can you hear me?"

"Alec?" Her voice was low and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. Then her gaze sharpened and she bolted upright, only to stagger and clutch her head as the drugs barreled into her again. Alec quickly used his arm to support her, settling it behind her shoulders. Max didn't say anything, and that more than anything proved how disoriented she was.

Abruptly she stared down at her hands, and then reached up to feel her face. Her fingers were quick and frantic.

"Max, it's okay," Alec said, although he had to clench his fists to keep from starting another round with Berrisford. "You're fine."

"Oh," she said faintly, looking openly relieved. Then her gaze shifted to Berrisford and his daughter. He saw her anger, but it was buried under drug-induced haziness.

"I'm getting you out of here," he said, standing and pulling her with him. She wavered dangerously again, and he hooked his arms under her knees and picked her up.

"Alec, stop it!" she demanded, as he expected. He ignored her, however, knowing she wasn't in any shape to stop him.

He stared down at Berrisford and his daughter, trying to ignore the sharp sting of regret as he met Rachel's eyes. Then Alec focused on her father, and all of his fury returned. This time, however, he kept it locked inside his eyes.

"I understand why you hate me," Alec said clearly, and Berrisford answered his comment with a fittingly hate-filled gaze. "I would have understood if you'd come after me. But if you ever touch Max again, I won't hesitate. I _will_ kill you. You won't get another chance, Berrisford."

Alec made sure the man met his eyes, made sure that Berrisford knew he was serious. Then he carried Max out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Yes, I know I'm posting a little late today! There's just one more chapter after this, so I hope you_ _enjoy!_

**Chapter 9**

* * *

_"So this is where you are, and this is where I am,  
Somewhere between unsure and a hundred." _

- The Fray, Hundred

* * *

Max awoke slowly, with the blissful ignorance that only sleep could bring. She stayed like that for a few seconds, yawning deeply and wondering why she felt so exhausted. Her shark DNA rarely allowed her to experience tiredness at this level. Then the memories flashed in front of her eyes, one right after another, and she gasped and shot upright.

For a moment she was sure Berrisford still had her, that she was disfigured and burned and scarred. She was amazed by how much the idea terrified her, since she had never put much stock in her appearance before.

Then she realized that she was in her own apartment, on her own bed, and that she felt no pain. She reached up and gingerly touched her face, but her fingers met with only smooth, unblemished skin. Max cried out in relief, holding her head in her hands.

"Max?"

She looked up sharply, surprised to see Alec standing in her doorway. She suddenly felt self-conscious, lying in bed with him so close to her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, suspicious of his presence.

Alec raised his eyebrows. "I got you away from Berrisford, remember?"

Obviously she didn't, and she was about to tell him so when the memories returned to her. Distant and so hazy they could have been a dream, but she _did_ recall him picking her up and carrying her.

"Oh," she said, eyes looking away from him. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"A while," Alec answered, but she heard the guardedness in his voice. He almost sounded worried.

"_How long_, Alec?" she asked again, more insistently this time.

"Five hours, give or take," he said unwillingly, his brow furrowing. "I've been watching you to make sure you didn't have a bad reaction to the drugs. So far you've just slept."

She was surprised by his kindness, but perhaps she shouldn't have been. There had been a drastic shift in Alec over the last few days, one that she could feel even if she didn't really understand it.

"What happened?" she asked, her question encompassing everything from his terrible mood to the confrontation with Berrisford. She looked at him, but he didn't answer. His eyes held hesitancy and maybe even a touch of fear; Max couldn't be sure.

"After everything that's happened, I deserve to know," she added after a few moments of silence. "And I think it's time you talk about what's been bothering you."

"I know," he answered, eyes roaming restlessly over the room. His feet shuffled, something she found surprising, and he couldn't seem to hold completely still. "I just… I don't even know where to start."

Max had been standoffish and slightly cold to him up until this point, but she finally sighed and sat up all the way. She wasn't happy about Berrisford dragging her into this mess, but if it meant Alec would talk to her, then she supposed it was worth it.

Thankfully he hadn't changed her clothes, so she wasn't wearing anything revealing or inappropriate. Good thing, too, because she would have killed him if he had. She tried to look encouraging as she met his gaze. "Try the beginning."

Alec sighed and stepped forward slowly, like he was gauging her reaction. When she didn't yell at him, he continued until he reached her bed. He sat on it cautiously, obviously expecting her to send him away. She didn't.

"It was three years ago," Alec began slowly, and Max's stomach jolted unpleasantly. She had known this story would involve Manticore, but it was unpleasant all the same. "Manticore had caught word that Robert Berrisford knew more than he should about their operations. He was interested in gene splicing and stem-cell studies, and his research had done a lot for Manticore. He just wasn't supposed to know it."

"Manticore wasn't happy?" Max guessed, trying to gently prod him along.

"No, not at all." He paused there, like he had passed the prelude and was now onto the actual hard part of the story. "They wanted to know what he knew, and they figured the best way to do that was to send in an undercover X5."

She exhaled slowly, understanding exactly what that meant. "It was you."

He looked at her, a kind of heartbreaking resignation in his eyes. "It was me. I had just been cleared for solo missions, and I was eager to please."

She heard the disgust at himself, and she resisted the urge to rest a hand on his arm. She chose to sit quietly and wait for him to continue, rather than to coax him on.

"I was his daughter, Rachel's, piano teacher," Alec said finally, and she caught the slight tilt in his voice as he said her name. "She liked me, so they told me to… _use_ that to get to Berrisford."

Max could almost see the story playing out in front of her. Rachel, young and unscarred, developing a crush on her charming, attractive music teacher. Robert Berrisford lingering in the background, watching his daughter with both adoration and concern. He probably worried for her heart, even though he really should have worried for her safety.

But Alec played his parts well. If Max knew nothing else about him, she knew that. Berrisford probably never had a clue.

"So I listened," Alec said bitterly, and she was accustomed enough to self-hatred to recognize it in Alec's voice. "I flirted with her and teased her, and I didn't stop it when it became more. I just didn't realize…"

Silence settled over them, and Max waited to see if he would continue. She really wanted him to, hoped he would finish the story without her having to force him. When it became clear that he wouldn't, however, she said, "You didn't realize what?"

"That it was _real_," Alec said quickly, like the words would be less painful if he expelled them fast. "I didn't know I loved her, not until it was too late."

Some piece of Max fragmented at that, and the unknown separation hurt. Why did his admission pain her? He was the one feeling hurt and battered and bruised, not her.

"How did she get burned, Alec?" Max asked softly, choosing not to comment on his confession. He was one of the most reclusive people she knew when it came to his emotions, almost worse than herself. She was afraid that if she probed deeper into the subject, he would back away and make an excuse to leave, and she knew he _couldn't_ leave.

Alec's throat worked convulsively, and Max heard his guttural swallow. She wondered if he would be able to tell her, or if he would even want to. He obviously felt bad for what had happened to Max, bad enough to know that she deserved an explanation. But how far did that extend? How far would he go for penance?

"A car bomb," he said finally, and Max's busy thoughts stilled. "I set a car bomb to kill both of them. It was what Manticore wanted." Finally his hatred was directed at someone other than himself, and Max was glad for that.

"That obviously didn't work out," Max stated, thinking of how both Berrisford and Rachel, though tattered at the seams, were both intact and breathing. It occurred to her that Alec had failed. He hadn't completed the mission Manticore had assigned to him. She knew what they must have done to him for that, and her heart ached for him.

"I tried to stop it," Alec said finally, shaking his head and closing his eyes. His voice quaked. "I thought I could save them. I had a plan—I'd get them out and then tell Manticore they left in the middle of the night. But I was stupid to think Manticore wouldn't be keeping tabs on me. They detonated the bomb, and since Rachel and her father were standing next to the car when it happened, I thought they'd both died."

And that was how Rachel had been scarred. It had to be. Max closed her eyes at the sorrow that overwhelmed her. Sorrow for Alec and Rachel and even Berrisford, who had obviously been driven over the edge by what had happened to his daughter. It was a terrible situation, a terrible tragedy, and in the end it all came back to Manticore. Of course, Alec didn't see it that way, and Berrisford probably didn't, either.

"I'm so sorry," Max whispered, working the words past the knot in her throat.

"You know the worst part?" he asked thickly, sounding like he had to work for the words, too.

"All of it's awful," Max answered with a sad shake of her head.

"Yeah, but the worst part is, I hated myself for what I was feeling." Alec stood suddenly, and the bed rocked a little as it readjusted. He turned away from her, and all she could see was the tense set of his back and shoulders. "I thought I was being a bad soldier for wanting to save her. I felt _guilty_ for loving her."

Max breathed in sharply, surprised by the confession. This was more than she had ever hoped he would say, and she wasn't sure how to respond anymore. She and Alec had never had a conversation like this, where he showed he was hurting and she offered help. It just didn't work this way. Except, for some reason, it did today.

How could she adjust to such a rapid change in their relationship? Her responses to him were usually angry, sarcastic or belittling. Rarely did they have an exchange that was actually real.

A thought occurred to her then, one that provided her with something to say even if it wasn't the comforting words she had imagined. "Did you see her? Rachel, I mean."

Every one of Alec's muscles tensed, and he clenched his jaw hard. "Yeah."

She braced herself for something terrible. "How bad was it?"

He laughed, but it was a humorless thing. "It wasn't. She forgave me."

"Then what's the problem, Alec?" Max couldn't help asking. Didn't Rachel's forgiveness soothe his conscience, even if Berrisford still hated him? After all, it was Rachel he loved. "She's scarred, yeah, but she's alive. They both are. Isn't that enough?"

He turned back to her, and she saw his turbulent emotions in his eyes. "No, because I _failed_."

Max stared at him in dismay, realizing the struggles he was going through. She knew he meant that he hadn't saved Rachel completely; he'd let her be burned. He had obviously wanted both Berrisford and Rachel to make it out of the situation alive, but Max wondered if there wasn't more to his distress.

Maybe somewhere deep down, he hated himself for failing his mission. Manticore had ingrained obedience so deeply in its soldiers that Max wouldn't be surprised if Alec was still feeling the effects of it.

She shook her head and looked away from him, regret filling her. How could she have thought that Alec wasn't affected by Manticore? He had always seemed so happy and carefree, and a part of her had always envied him for it. And yet, he had spent most of his life in an evil, heartless institution. She should have known he'd have scars, even if she hadn't been able to see them at first.

When she got right down to it, Alec was just as damaged as she was.

"I'm sorry," Max said quietly, because there was nothing else to say. Rachel had forgiven him, Berrisford didn't deserve the right to forgiveness, and Max hadn't condemned him for this in the first place. The only forgiveness Alec needed now was his own.

"I need to go," Alec said suddenly, glancing at her briefly before looking away again.

Max knew he would bail eventually, and she also knew there was nothing she could say to make him stay. "Okay. Just… Alec?"

He paused at the doorway and looked back at her, apprehension covering his face. Was she really that frightening? "Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

His smile was barely there, but it was the realest expression she'd seen on his face in days. "I will."

And for the first time in almost a week, Max believed that maybe Alec would be alright.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: So, we've reached the final chapter. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! And I'd also like to thank my beta, happycabbage75. I should have done it before now, but thanks so much for all your help!_

**Chapter 10**

* * *

_"There are many things that I would like to say to you,  
But I don't know how,  
Because maybe,  
You're gonna be the one that saves me."_

- Oasis, Wonderwall

* * *

Alec hadn't planned on actually talking to Rachel. He'd just wanted to make sure she was okay after the crisis last night. He still had half a mind to break in and teach Berrisford a lesson, but he knew it was unnecessary. He had warned Berrisford to stay away from Max, and he doubted the man would try anything like that again. The failure of his first plan along with the disgust and lack of respect from his daughter were probably too much for Robert Berrisford to handle.

Alec's only goal had been to catch a glimpse of Rachel to make sure she was really alive and well. Then he would sneak back to the shadows and never bother her again.

Things didn't go as planned, however, when he saw Rachel waiting outside the front gate, surrounded by luggage. She was sitting on one of the sturdier suitcases, and Alec was so startled that he moved from his hiding place to greet her.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, puzzled. She jumped slightly in surprise and then smiled at him.

"As a matter of fact, I am," she said, her voice light. He was quickly realizing that, although her appearance had changed in many ways, her personality was still as optimistic as ever. She was perhaps wiser and less carefree, but at heart she was still the same. "I'm moving to my aunt's house in New York."

Alec felt part of him wrench at the thought, but another part felt guiltily pleased that she was moving so far away. He couldn't ever resume things with her, not after all that had happened between them. She didn't seem to expect it, but he was still glad that distance would make it impossible.

He didn't need to guess the reason for the move, either. "Have you talked to him about it?" Alec asked.

Rachel's eyes became shadowed, and she glanced down at her linked hands. "No. I've barely spoken to him at all." She looked back up at him, and he was saddened to see such turmoil in her eyes. Despite the fact that it was Berrisford's actions distressing her, Alec was still tied to the reason she was upset. Even now he was making her unhappy. "He says he wasn't going to go through with it. He says he was looking down at… at your friend, and thinking he couldn't do it when we walked in. But how can I be sure of that?"

"You can't," Alec answered. Some people preferred lies, Alec knew, but he wouldn't do that to her again. After so much lying, Rachel deserved honesty from him. "You'll never know if he's telling the truth."

He was going to stop there, because he felt absolutely no inclination to defend Berrisford. And yet, the man adored his daughter, and it seemed sad that he was going to lose her. Alec couldn't say he wished it another way, but he might feel the vaguest stirrings of pity under all the fury.

"He loves you, though," Alec added, without really meaning to. "And love can make people do crazy things."

She looked up at him, shielding her eyes against the rare Seattle sunlight. "Not that crazy, Si—Alec. It is Alec, isn't it?"

He was momentarily taken aback by the sound of his new name on her lips. It was like the past and the present, which were previously unmixable, had suddenly merged together. Then he nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's Alec. And if you think about it, I abandoned everything I believed in to save you. And I nearly killed your father when I saw what he was doing to Max. I'd say those are pretty crazy things."

She smiled slightly, and he once again caught a glimpse of the Rachel she used to be. "Does that mean you love her?"

Alec's jaw dropped before he had time to control his reaction. Had he really just said that? He was usually so careful with his words. "I… I do, but not the way you're thinking," he amended hurriedly, but her eyes didn't lose their happy sparkle. "We're _friends_," he insisted.

Rachel didn't push. "Okay," she said, but that knowing smile stayed planted on her lips.

They lapsed into silence, and it was more comfortable than he would have expected. By all rights, she should have hated him. He was positive anyone else would, but Rachel had always been different.

"I'm going to be okay, Alec," she said after awhile, and he decided he liked it when she said his name. It was strange that a moniker given to him by Max could become so permanent, but somehow it had. He _felt_ like Alec.

"Really?" he asked, unable to keep the hope out of his voice. If she was okay, then maybe he would be, too.

"Yeah," she said, smiling sincerely at him. "I don't mind my scars anymore. They're a part of me now."

He didn't say anything, but the look on his face must have said enough, because she added, "I mean it. Sometimes… sometimes terrible things happen, and you have a choice. You can either waste all your time mourning the life you lost, or you can make a new one." She waited until he met her eyes, and then she said, "I made a new one, and I'm going to live it. Scars included."

Alec didn't say anything for a long time, caught up in her words. Then he finally cleared his throat and said a little gruffly, "Just be happy, okay?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes open and compassionate. "You too, Alec. I mean it. If you find something that makes you happy, don't let it go."

He thought there might be a deeper message in her words, but he was afraid to look farther into them. Instead he nodded and held out his hand to her. "Take care, Rachel."

She stood up and hugged him, catching his outstretched hand between them. He stayed completely still for a moment and then hugged her back. She was smiling when she pulled away. "You too, Alec."

* * *

"Look who it is."

Max glanced up from the cracked tabletop to see Alec striding across Crash. O.C. was the one who'd pointed him out, and Sketchy perked up next to Max, obviously happy to see his friend.

"Been awhile, dude," Sketchy said warmly when Alec finally joined them. He patted Alec on the back and then grabbed the empty pitcher from the table. "This calls for another round of beer, my treat."

"Thanks, Sketch," Alec said, smiling as he slapped Sketchy's shoulder. Max eyed him suspiciously, but she didn't find any deception in his face or posture. Perhaps he really was better.

She had to be sure. "Alec, can I talk to you for a second?"

He eyed her warily and then shot O.C. a look. Cindy shook her head, obviously indicating that she had no idea what Max wanted to discuss. Alec sighed, presumably resigning himself to going into a discussion with Max blind, and he let her lead him off to a quieter section of Crash.

"Haven't seen you around lately," Max said immediately, and then winced when she realized how accusing that sounded. This treating-Alec-differently thing was going to be more difficult than she'd thought.

His eyes were guarded as he considered her. "Been busy."

"Right," she said, and there was a slight pause as she thought of what she wanted to say. Then she threw caution to the wind and bulldozed headfirst into the issue. "You're not going to be picking anymore bar fights, are you?"

His eyes were still cautious, but he smiled a little. "No. Two-bit jerks are forever safe from me."

"Well, good," Max said, slightly awkwardly. Then she sighed and tried to let go of the tension thrumming through her. "Look, you're alright, aren't you?"

His smile turned into a full grin then, and his eyes creased at the corners. "I'm always alright."

She stared at him, unsure of his answer. It seemed genuine, but she also knew it was a lie. He might be alright in this instance, but he certainly had other issues. Maybe those could wait, though. Maybe they could deal with them together one day.

"Guess we really put on a good act, huh?" Max asked, returning his smile just slightly. His eyes registered faint confusion, and she added, "At the party. Berrisford really thought we were in love."

She wasn't sure why she had said it, and now she wished she could take it back. Mentioning Berrisford wasn't the problem. Alec seemed to be recovering from his agony over that situation.

Instead, speaking aloud the thought behind Berriford's plan seemed to put something out in the air between them. She wasn't quite sure what, but she felt as if some elusive opportunity floated in the distance that separated them, and if they reached out maybe they could grasp it. And maybe it would make them happy, happier than either of them had been in a long time. Or maybe it would make them miserable, and add another set of scars to their already impressive collections.

She could tell Alec felt it, too, by the quizzical look in his eyes and the slight set of his jaw. He even looked like he might be having the same thoughts as her.

He was the one to pull back first. "Yeah, we did. Kind of hard to believe, considering we're usually at each other's throats."

Max also retreated, because in the end, neither of them needed more scars. "Exactly. But everything worked out in the end, so it doesn't really matter."

"Yeah," Alec said, not quite meeting her eyes as he said it. Then he looked up suddenly, and she was surprised by the sudden intensity in his gaze. "I just wanted to say, though, that I'm sorry. About Ben. I know I wasn't really in the mood to listen when you told me, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

Her throat threatened to close, but she kept her emotions buried carefully under the surface. "You have?"

"Yeah," he said again, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. "I figure it's why you tried so hard to help me, right? Because you couldn't help him."

For some reason, Max hated the way he said it. It was true to an extent, but she had a feeling he believed it was her sole purpose for wanting to save him. And that wasn't true. But how could she tell him without having to admit that she was attached to him? It was one thing to be civil and even friendly. It was another to be open. "I…."

"Hey, Max, it's okay," Alec said, sending her a grin that looked all too effortless. "You and Ben had a history, and you cared about him. I get it."

"Yeah, but—"

"Seriously, don't worry about it."

"_Stop_ interrupting me!" she growled finally, tossing her hands up in frustration. He looked surprised, but finally stayed silent. "What I've been _trying_ to say," she began, still glaring at him threateningly in case he decided to speak again, "is that it's true. Ben's part of the reason I wanted to help you."

His expression didn't change, but she saw the disappointment flash briefly into his eyes. Damn, she was really going to have to say this, wasn't she?

"But he's not the only reason," Max said finally, breathing a resigned sigh. "I… you've grown on me, okay?"

His eyes lit up, and she knew by the curve of his mouth that he was going to start laughing soon.

"Like a fungus," she clarified hurriedly, raising her voice in effort to make her words reach him. "Or a mold. A genetically modified, indestructible, completely reliant mold."

"Admit it, Maxie," Alec said, his features set into an openly smug expression. "You _like_ me."

"I do not!" she argued vehemently, trying to look affronted by the very idea.

"Yeah, whatever. Deny it all you want, but I know the truth." His laughing eyes stayed on her for a moment more and then moved away, tracking something behind her. "Sketchy's got more beer. Want to go back?"

She hesitated for a moment because, as strange as it was, she didn't. She wanted to stay here with him in relative privacy. Then she shook off the bizarre feeling and nodded her head. "Sure."

He started walking first, and she followed along after him.

"Hey, Alec?" she called, and he stopped and looked at her questioningly.

"You _so_ owe me another undercover mission."

Alec grinned and rolled his eyes, turning away from her again. But her sensitive ears caught his chuckle and good-natured, "Whatever you say, Max."

**The End**

* * *

_A/N: Thanks again for tuning in! Hope you've enjoyed the ride!_


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